Dust and Cigarette Smoke
by Sanima
Summary: She's cheated death one too many times for comfort. Intelligence and luck can only get a girl so far in life before she needs a helping hand, but it won't come without a price. Because Jericho doesn't seem to get any love- please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

A.N.

I'm taking a brief hiatus on Company, for anyone who's wondering. It's still in the works, just moving verreh slowly. In the meantime, I've been melting my brain with my alltime favorite game and came to the realization that I've never seen a Jericho story. Never really looked, either...but oh well. He's one of mah favorites.

Chapter One

Jessica limped toward the giant metal monstrosity of Megaton, her left leg dragging slowly through the dirt as stinging sweat dripped into her eyes. She blinked heavily, adjusting the limp, furry body across her shoulders. Dogmeat yelped in pain, jaw snapping the air reflexively. The sudden movement knocked Jessica off balance and she tripped, landing heavily on her left knee. A shriek of pain was cut short as she bit her lip, a sudden burst of coppery warmth blooming from between her teeth as they pierced the skin. Climbing slowly to her feet, the woman's brown eyes were beginning to glaze over as stringy black hair stung them mercilessly. Her skin was sallow, and hung from her bones as though it were slightly too big. She had the angular look of a once healthy young woman who had lost a great deal of weight very quickly. Dogmeat yipped, his paws scrabbling feebly at her arms.

"That's what you fucking get for messing with Mirelurks. I think," she paused to spit out a gob of blood, "I should let you walk the rest of the way."

The Australian Shepherd whined, and the young woman sighed loudly.

"They almost didn't see us, asshole. I had the observe-thing in the eggs and everything."

Anchorage War Memorial. She had followed Moira's directions northeast of Megaton, getting a more precise location from a batty old lady in a weird hat situated beside the river. And why? Because it was supposed to be infested with Mirelurks.

That had proven a severe understatement. After wrenching open the pneumatic seal on the facility bay door, she'd paused, listening to a strange clicking noise from the dark interior. The sudden burst of sunlight had stunned the Mirelurks, which shielded beady black eyes with massive claws. Jessica counted six before the door shut in front of her face and she backed away slowly, .32 caliber rifle held against her shoulder. Either Mirelurks didn't know how to work a pneumatic door, or they simply weren't interested in killing her. Jessica decided quickly that it was the claws. No way to grip the release.

So after half an hour of snooping, she found the back door. The Potomac had been wearing away at concrete and riverbed for two hundred years, and the thin ledge before it was nearly inaccessible. She'd scrambled up with a minimal amount of difficulty, nearly losing her footing and tumbling the ten feet or so into irradiated muck. She'd intended to leave Dogmeat outside, but had been warned about hives and egg clusters along the riverbank. The last thing she needed was to come back outside and find a few scattered scraps of fur.

Jessica smelled them before she heard them. Nearly losing her breakfast as she traipsed through ankle deep Mirelurk dung, she made a quick mental note.

_Intelligent enough to designate a bathroom._

Oh good. Bloodthirsty AND smart.

She could make out an outline against a dim mote of sunlight, a single large claw standing out sharply. A low growl rumbled in Dogmeat's throat.

"Bad Dogmeat, very bad," Jessica hissed furiously under her breath, heart beginning to pound in her chest as the distant Mirelurk glanced up sharply. She looked around furtively. There, she could see a clutch of slimy, greenish orbs situated in a cluster of pipes. She moved forward quickly, loathing the soft splash of muck and water against her boots. Dogmeat continued to growl, now moving away from her and down the tunnel.

"Bloody fucking cockbiting hell," the young woman growled, slipping a small mechanical device amongst the eggs. It disappeared with a soft squishing sound, and Jessica turned to leave, feeling strangely accomplished.

An angry snarl echoed through the sewers, rising to a high pitched yelp of pain as a loud snap followed. Dogmeat scurried back toward her, one paw held up against his stomach and tail between his legs. An angry Mirelurk was in hot pursuit, two pairs of claws snapping furiously at the air.

"RUN!" Jessica screamed to no one in particular, taking off through the pipes as she slung the rifle from her shoulder. She fired into the darkness, the flash of gunpowder illuminating the dark tunnel momentarily. There were now two of the creatures, and her bullet pinged off the smaller of the two like a rock off concrete. She swore fluidly, every foul word she could think of spilling from her lips in rapid succession as she reloaded, suddenly screaming aloud as a blinding pain erupted on her side.

The Mirelurk behind her had missed, knocking her with the flat of its claw instead of snapping her in half. She dropped like a sack of rocks, and rolled to one side, ignoring the fetid muck that clung to her hair and face while rapidly oozing into her clothes. Attempting to rise to her feet, she slipped, and scuttled backwards through the mud as the creatures closed in on her. Gripping the barrel of her rifle like a club, she swung furiously as claws tore chunks from her flesh, and she screamed again as she felt her left knee snap out of place.

She opened her eyes when the attack stopped. The Mirelurks had backed away several feet, sizing her up anew. She barely noted the chips she had knocked out of the shells, and a long gash across the fleshy face of the largest one. Dogmeat whimpered beside her. With a grunt, she was on her feet and lifting his furry body, slinging it over her shoulders as she backed down the piping. One of the smaller beasts, possessing only one set of claws, lunged again; she nearly fell, managing to jerk to one side at the last moment. The creature missed by inches, and Jessica felt the edge of its claw smack her squarely in the ribs. She ran. How she managed to make it back to the door, wrench it open and slam it shut before the Mirelurks ripped her limb from limb was still hazy, but it had been close. Through a thick red fog, she'd managed to limp back to Grandma Sparkle's shack, where the old woman had helped her staunch most of the bleeding and splint up her shattered elbow.

Now, having drug herself and Dogmeat the remaining five miles, she was reaching the end of the last of her strength. Her vision swam, more from pain than the intense heat rising from the parched ground, though both were threatening to overwhelm her at any moment. Someone groaned, a despairing, hopeless sound as the dirt rushed at her, and Dogmeat yelped loudly. Goddamn it, she was breathing dirt. Sandstorm?

The sun continued to beat down on the girl's sprawled body, while Dogmeat scrabbled feebly in an attempt to free his broken legs from beneath her. Several of the buzzards above Megaton took note, and veered off course to circle a more certain meal.


	2. Chapter 2

A.N.

Nope, it's not dead! Just...resting. Really hard. My brain is slowly melting through my eye sockets and it's screwing up my writing schedule...a lot. But here it is, without further ado-

Chapter Two

Jessica woke up in Doc Church's clinic, blinking disjointedly through one eye. Her hand flew to her face in a panic, but fell back to her side after discovering a bandage strapped across her forehead. She opened her mouth to speak, choking on half-formed words; her mouth was lined with cotton, which she pulled out and tossed to one side.

"You're missing a few teeth, I'm afraid," Doc Church's tone was dry and cynical as ever. "The rest of you will heal up eventually. I hope you haven't been blowing all your caps on Jet. I'm calling your tab this time."

"Goddamnit, Church," Jessica spat, wincing at the raw, gaping holes in her mouth. She stuck a finger in and prodded experimentally. So far as she could tell, she'd knocked out two incisors and shattered a molar. Probably from falling off the sewer ledge. Her eyes suddenly opened wide, and she struggled to sit up, staring around wildly.

"Where's Meat?" she demanded, falling back as her hand flew to her side and her face contorted with pain.

"The mutt?" Church rose from his desk, peering briefly into the recovery room. "He'll live. Last time I'm telling you; I'm not a fucking veterinarian, Jessica."

The young woman released a soft sigh.

"I'll make it up to you. I'm getting paid as soon as I get out of here; Moira fucking owes me this time."

Church shook his head.

"Didn't anyone warn you about taking jobs from her?"

Jessica made a noise that might have been a barking laugh or a clot in her windpipe.

"Her merc tried to. Kind of. Wish he'd been more specific. Can you do anything about my teeth?"

Church shook his head.

"They're gone, kid. Stick to soft foods until the bleeding stops and let me know if there's any sign of infection. Might be a few chips lodged up there in your gums."

"Great." Jessica closed her eyes and resisted the habitual urge to grind her jaw. "What's the damage this time?"

"Aside from the teeth, a broken arm, dislocated knee, three fractured ribs, multiple lacerations requiring a total of ninety two stitches, and a concussion. Oh, you're also dehydrated and undernourished...but what's new?"

Jessica sighed impatiently.

"Monetary damage, Church."

The middle-aged man picked up a worn clipboard and flipped briefly through a few sheets of paper, muttering inaudibly under his breath.

"Total as of today is gonna come to four hundred and thirty seven," he finally said. "That's not including veterinary fees."

The woman moaned loudly. "Goddamn it, Church. Have your stitches, I don't fucking want them anymore."

"Fine." Church nodded. "But I charge for removal, too."

The red flashed in front of her vision again. That furious, all-consuming red that made her limbs take on a mind of their own…and that had gotten her into more than a few spots of trouble. It now commanded her to pull out her trusty pistol and plant a few slugs right in the middle of Churches' smug, self-satisfied face.

"Don't give me that look." The man frowned heavily. "I have a pretty good track record as far as not killing patients, so don't give me a reason to fuck up my percentage. If you'd keep your blood on the inside, you wouldn't have to worry about hospital fees."

The woman forced herself to breathe. The old man was nothing short of impossible to intimidate, and she was too tired, anyway. That, and she was fully aware of the semi-automatic tucked inconspicuously on his belt.

"So what happened, anyway?" Jessica lay back and stared at the cracked ceiling through her uncovered eye.

"From those gashes, I'd say Mirelurks. What, you having memory trouble? I didn't think you hit your head _that_ hard." Church gave her another stare.

"I know what happened to ME, I mean how come my body isn't being picked apart by a family of Mole Rats?" Jessica snapped. "I musta been a mile out of town. How the hell did I get here?"

Church chuckled dryly.

"You got damn lucky. Fell right in the middle of Hoff's route. I hope you remember to say thank you next time you're wasting caps."

"Mind your business," the woman snarled. "I work hard for every goddamn one and I don't need your approval."

"No, you need my services, and I expect to get paid for them instead of you wasting all your goddamn money on chems. So here's the deal." Church gave her a disdaining stare. "You wanna go get high instead of paying your hospital bill? Fine, but don't expect any more charity work out of me."

Jessica climbed unsteadily out of bed, legs trembling beneath her weight. She gripped the railing with white knuckles and leaned tentatively forward onto her left leg; the blood drained from her head, and a wave of pain caused her stomach to heave once.

"Fuck me. Where's the Med-X?"

Church smiled thinly.

"You've had a dose. Come back with my caps and I might be persuaded to sell you another."

Ooooh, she wanted to strangle him.

"Can I at least borrow a crutch?" The young woman growled through clenched teeth.

"I'm not a monster." Church shook his head, retrieving a tattered and rather rusty crutch from an unobtrusive corner. "I hope I don't need to remind you that I need it back."

"Guess not." Jessica situated the crutch beneath her left arm and took a hobble forward. With her right arm strapped to her chest, it was proving very difficult to balance, especially since her head wouldn't stop swimming.

"You're gonna have a time with the walkways," Church commented unhelpfully. "The concussion might be worse than I thought. You should probably stay overnight."

"I'm fine," Jessica snapped. "MEAT!"

She heard a yip and scuffle beneath the bed. Peering down, she looked at Dogmeat, who lay on a few tattered sheets. Most of his fur had been shaved off, and he was covered in angry, puckered gashes. Three splinted legs lay out stiffly, and bandages were wound around his head. One ear was torn nearly off, the edges black and cauterized. The dog's tail thumped loudly on the floor, and his tongue lolled out as he made a brief effort to stand. He lay still with a whimper, gazing up at her with apologetic eyes. Jessica sighed loudly.

"There's your collateral. I'll be back later." She hobbled unsteadily to the door, turning around as Dogmeat barked loudly.

"Stay here, Dogmeat," she directed firmly. The Australian shepherd whined softly, laying his head down on the floor in dejection.

"If you fall, I'll give you a discount if you hit Cronwell," Church told the woman as she limped out the door. Jessica threw him a parting sneer before slamming the door, turning and blinking in the late afternoon sunlight. Megaton's citizens milled around the crater's bottom and sides, enjoying a brief respite from the oppressive heat before the chill of night descended. Jessica managed to drag herself up the catwalks amidst incredulous stares, nearly falling through the door of Craterside Supply. She caught herself on the counter's edge, giving a startled Moira Brown a scathing stare.

"I want my fucking money," Jessica snarled, glaring through her good eye.

Moira's hands flew over her mouth.

"Oh my goodness," she cried, "what happened out there?"

"I got bored, thought I'd juggle a few live grenades," Jessica spat sarcastically. "I almost got torn to shreds, that's what the fuck happened. Why the hell would you send me to a nest of mini armored tanks?"

"How many were there? Are they intelligent?" Moira's eyes were glittering at the prospect. Jessica heard herself snarl, and she wobbled unsteadily for a moment as she lurched for the redhead. She froze as something hard and metallic dug into the small of her back.

"You better calm down," a guttural voice rumbled in her ear, "Moira don't like me killing customers, but it's my favorite part of the job."

Shit. She'd forgotten about the bodyguard. Jessica raised her hand to shoulder level slowly, turning her head to glower at Gun. The merc gave her a leering grin, jabbing the barrel of his assault rifle into her back again.

"All right, that's enough," Moira's tone was unusually stern. "I think you've been through enough violence for one day, Jessica. Let's all calm down and talk about this like grown-ups."

"I just want my payment," Jessica forced herself to keep calm. "I didn't count, and I sure as hell didn't ask them to do math. Your observer-thingy is right were you wanted it, so I did my job."

Moira nodded briefly at the mercenary, who reluctantly pulled his rifle out of Jessica's back. He glared daggers at her before retreating to his spot beside the work bench, watching her distrustfully.

"Next time," he mouthed. Jessica clenched her fists tightly and took a deep breath, giving Moira her full attention once again. The redhead ducked beneath the counter briefly and returned with two small devices.

"Here you go. Two brand new Stealth Boys."

"That won't even cover my hospital bill." Jessica frowned. "Come on, Moira, I've been risking my life left and right to help you write your stupid book, and you can't even give me health insurance?"

"I'm really sorry," Moira told her apologetically, "but I have a business to run, and we had a deal. It's…well, I can't really be held responsible…"

"Ain't her fault if you can't keep your blood where it belongs," the mercenary interjected caustically. Moira shot him a warning glance.

"Well, I wouldn't put it like that."

"But it's what you mean." Jessica swore fluidly under her breath. "Whatever." She snatched up the Stealth Boys and tucked them into her shirt, turning and limping for the door.

"Later, Jet-ica." Gun simpered at her, making a lewd gesture just out of Moira's line of sight.

"Go get gang raped," the young woman snarled, slamming the door hard behind her. The exertion sent her head spinning again. She steadied herself against the scaffolding for several minutes, breathing deeply and fighting off the bright spots in her eyes. The sun was dipping toward the horizon, throwing long shadows across the town.

"Hey you," she called to one of Megaton's many settlers, a dark-haired man who gave her a distrustful glance. "Want a free bottle of booze?"

"Why, whadda you want?"

"I need you to carry my dog. It's not far, just from the clinic to my house."

The man folded his arms across his chest, giving her an appraising stare.

"What kind of booze?'

"Oh for fuck's…whiskey, all right?"

"Hm. You got vodka?"

God, she was going to kill every one of them.

"No, I don't have vodka. You want to get drunk or not?"

The man contemplated for a long moment.

"All right. Let's go."

She gave the Stealth Boys to Church without a word, leaving the clinic and nearly crawling the steep incline to the ramshackle building perched on the crater's lip. Allowing the man carrying Dogmeat over his shoulder inside long enough to hand him a bottle of amber liquid, she dismissed him brusquely, locking the door behind him. She stared blearily at the set of stairs for a moment before sinking heavily to the floor, curling up beside Dogmeat as her exhausted and battered body screamed for rest. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes as she lay on the cold, hard ground, occasional tremors shaking her body. Oh god, she needed some Jet. Just a hit. Just a little one, to take her away from everything even for a moment.

She hadn't thought it would be like this.

_What's up there…it's not the life she wanted for you._

But what was a life in the ground? Pretending they were the only humans left on the planet, fading away little by little as the years filed away their numbers. And he'd left her in there without so much as a goodbye.

"I hope he's dead," she grated under her breath. Dogmeat whined sympathetically.

He was a prick. An asshole. An inconsiderate bastard.

"Daddy, why'd you leave me? Did I do something wrong?"

That tiny, wretched voice couldn't be hers. Dogmeat whimpered softly, licking salty drops from her cheeks as she lay sobbing on the floor. Daylight faded slowly, and the soft hum of the nighttime generators filled the air. Jessica slept, curled up in a ball while Dogmeat lay beside her, chin resting protectively on the woman's shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

I really should have this proofread, but it's 6:30 in the morning and I have yet to go to bed. Cranked this out in a few hours and was really proud of myself, and just couldn't wait to post it.

Any grammatical, spelling or punctuation mistakes, point out and I'll go fix asap. In the meantime, please enjoy the (belated)

Chapter Three

The boredom was going to drive her insane. A week had passed, and Jessica still limped heavily around Megaton. She'd returned Church's crutch a few days ago, slamming the door in reply to his inquiry about the rest of her tab. Unable to venture out and explore, she spent her time skulking. When that grew tedious, she took to drowning her restlessness in cheap liquor.

Moriarty's Saloon wasn't exactly a discerning establishment. The old Irishman kept personal vendettas against nearly everyone in town, but it didn't prevent him taking their caps at every available opportunity. He did, however, take particular offense to unpaid tabs.

"You owe me fifty seven caps, bitch," he snarled down at Jessica. The young woman sat in a drunken stupor on the catwalk, where she'd been tossed unceremoniously. "Don't let me catch your face around my bar unless you mean to pay up; otherwise, part of it's staying with me." The gangly, silver-haired man turned back to the shady interior and slammed the door, muttering something malicious under his breath.

Jessica staggered to her feet, nearly catapulting over the railing and into the town center below. She clung to the metal bars for a moment, taking a few deep breaths as she tried to clear her swimming head.

James rarely let her drink, and never in any amount. She'd been allowed up to a finger of brandy on special occasions, but getting shit-faced was a revelation.

"This town fucking sucks," she muttered, dirty hair falling across her sun and wind-burned face. "I hate every single fucking one of you," she shouted across the crater, earning a few malicious glances. "I hate this whole goddamn place," she finished more quietly.

Her entire life, she'd been bored; she spent most of her time in fantasy, burying herself in books and holovids of people having adventures. When she heard stories of the Outside- the poisoned, unforgiving world where savage beasts and even more savage men roamed, killing and desecrating all in their path, her heart beat furiously in her chest. She wanted to face those dangers, overcome them, and eventually become one of the heroes from the stories.

Now, goddamn it, she missed the Vault. She missed the regular meals, the cool, metal rooms and hydraulic hissing doors. But more than anything, she missed her father. It wouldn't matter how fucked up everything was out here; she'd make due, just as soon as she could find James.

Strike that. More than anything, she missed the showers.

"Oh God," Jessica managed to mutter as she fell to her knees, retching violently over the catwalk. Vomit splattered on someone's roof, the smell rising unpleasantly on the heat.

"That didn't help at all," she muttered dolefully after a moment, crawling a few feet forward. She'd hoped throwing up would ease the wave-like sensations racking her body. "I think maybe next time I don't drink the whole bottle. This fucking sucks. I don't want the spinning."

Someone kicked her rudely to the side, tossing a curse her way as they staggered toward the saloon.

"Get the fuck outta the way," a gravelly male voice snarled. "You're blocking the goddamn door."

Jessica looked around with some difficulty. She was a good five feet from the door, and nearer the ledge than the saloon. Her assailant paused, making a stumbling lurch to the side. The man righted himself after a moment, now eyeing her unpleasantly. He was middle aged, dark brown eyes looking her over suspiciously. Sweat beaded on his shaved head, and the sun glinted dully on the stock of his Chinese assault rifle.

"Don't recognize you," the man slurred. "Who you workin' for, bitch?"

She had been called too many rude things in too short a time. That was the last straw.

"QUIT CALLING ME A MOTHERFUCKING BITCH," Jessica shrieked at the top of her lungs. She leaped at the man with surprising agility, considering her drunken state. The young woman collided with his knees and knocked him onto the metal walk, beginning to pummel furiously at his face. The red was forming behind Jessica's eyes as the past two weeks crashed on her all at once; the brutal sun, ever present radiation, lack of food, showers, and even the most basic hygiene like _toilet paper, _suddenly gone. Her body was in a state of near starvation, but even the pain of hunger paled in comparison to the loneliness.

_Why, dad?_

She could barely hear shouting and screams through the fog. An agonized, piercing wail drowned out everything around her. The young woman lost her sense of time, fading back into partial lucidity to find herself restrained by two men. The end of a tortured shriek faded from her lips as she panted for breath, fists clenched and nails bloody. A crowd had gathered, chatting animatedly amongst themselves.

"Lemmie at her," the man begged, similarly restrained. Several long, ragged scratches dripped blood down his face, while a black eye was already darkening his left socket. "I'll fucking tear her apart!"

"He fucking kicked me!" Jessica spat, noting in the back of her mind that she seemed to have lost another tooth. "I was jus' sitting there tryin' to get up an' he fucking kicked me!"

"I'll fucking do it again!" the man roared, bucking furiously against the men holding his arms. Several people in the crowd cheered, shouting for the fighters' release.

"What the hell is going on here?!" An angry roar cut through the din, people clambering hastily to the side as Lucas Simms pushed his way through. The dark-skinned man's eyes snapped furiously as he glared between Jessica and the restrained man.

"Jericho, what the FUCK is going on here?"

"I ain't done nothin', Simms," Jericho snarled, struggling anew. "I was tryin' to get back into Moriarty's, and the broad fuckin' jumped me!"

"He _kicked_ me," Jessica protested vehemently, a small portion of her mind noting her badly-slurred words.

_Fuck me sideways, I'm too drunk for this,_ she thought sourly.

"Everybody clear off. The walk can't handle all the weight." Simms motioned pointedly for the ramps, clearing out the majority of the crowd with an authoritative stare. They dispersed grudgingly, most displeased that the fun had been broken up.

"Now," the sheriff turned to Jessica and Jericho, "you two gonna behave, or do I have to kick you out for disorderly conduct?"

"I was jus' lyin' there an' he _kicked _me," Jessica growled, finally going limp in her captor's grasp. "I jus' wanna go home and lay down. This whole place fucking _sucks_."

"I tripped," Jericho snarled, "and my foot caught the crazy bitch. I'm checkin' her out, makin' sure she ain't a spy, and she jumps on me! Look at my goddamn face, Simms!"

"Great." Simms rubbed his eyes with one hand. "Jessica, did you attack him?"

"He kicked me," the young woman repeated weakly.

"Just what I need." The sheriff raised his eyes skyward. "Another violent drunk. Jericho, you got lucky this time. Get your ass home and sober up."

The older man shrugged off the men restraining him roughly, giving them each an evil stare. He tried to storm away, the whole scene rather less dramatic with each lurch and swerve. Once he'd vanished into the maze of catwalks, Simms nodded to the remaining men, who released Jessica. She had to grab onto the railing to stay upright, struggling to focus her eyes on the sheriff. He waved the settlers away before approaching her, face inches from hers.

"Listen close, girl," he spoke in a low, dangerous tone. "I've got enough fires to put out around here without drunken assholes trying to kill each other. I thought I made it pretty clear about keeping your nose clean." Jessica swallowed hard. It was immensely difficult to keep her tongue in check. "At this point in time," Simms continued, "we're still on civil terms. One more incident, and you're out. Do I make myself clear?"

Jessica managed to nod, though the movement nearly cost her balance.

"Christ almighty, girl, you're completely pissed, aren't you?" The sheriff released a long sigh as the girl began to sob uncontrollably, collapsing again onto the metal walkway.

"I hate it here," she bawled, taking a chagrined mental note of the spectacle she was making. "I'm always tired and my skin hurts and there's no fucking _toilet paper_! I can't use that fucking rag-in-a-bucket anymore, I don't give a shit how much Abraxo's in the water!"

Simms bent down and hefted the young woman ungracefully over his shoulders, where she continued to sob pitifully.

"One more thing," he barked as he began to walk, "I'm never, EVER doing this again. Next time you want to drink yourself useless, you can bake in the sun."

His words faded into a bright white buzz, and Jessica lost track of time again. Somewhere along the way, the blinding light faded to soft blackness, although the stifling heat still pressed heavily on her body. When she came around, she was curled up in her house at the foot of the stairs, a puddle of drool warm and sticky beneath her right cheek.

The young woman sat up blearily, her head pounding. No light trickled in from the holes in the structure, and the air was less oppressively hot. Someone banged insistently at the door; Dogmeat stood before it, hackles raised while he barked.

The noise made her head pound. Jessica's eyes felt swollen, there was a horrible taste in the back of her throat, and she wanted very badly to throw up.

"Oh fuck me, I'm coming," she growled, staggering across the bare floor to the door. She wrenched it open, blinking in the darkness. Light pooled from the open door, falling across the scowling visage of Jericho.

"It's you." Jessica stared up at him through matted hair, lips pulled back from her teeth in a sneer. The man returned the glare with venom, eye swollen and purple. Several strips of gauze had been taped over his stubbly face, splotches of crimson blossoming through.

"Simms made me check on you," the man muttered. "Make sure you didn't choke on your own puke or some shit."

"What the hell happened?" she croaked. Goddamn, it felt like she'd eaten a plate of sand. Jericho gave her a long look.

"You don't drink much, huh?"

"Aren't you the observant one," the young woman growled. God almighty, her head was killing her. It would have been reminiscent to having her skull trapped in a giant cog…if that had ever actually happened.

"Eat shit, then," the man retorted, turning on his heel. "Good luck with the headache, by the way," he threw over one shoulder.

"Wait," Jessica croaked, gripping the doorframe with white knuckles. The older man paused mid-stride, folding his arms over his chest. "Tell me how to get rid of it," the girl begged. "Dear sweet Jesus, it hurts so goddamn bad."

Jericho's face twisted slowly into an unpleasant smirk.

"Bet it does. Probably almost as much as the fucking canyons you carved into my goddamn face."

"If it makes you feel _any_ better," Jessica glowered, "I'm missing another tooth and two chunks of hair. Oh, and I think I have a bootprint permanently stamped into my ribcage."

"Serves you right, crazy broad." Jericho flipped her off smoothly before turning and making his way down the short incline to his own shack. With a whimpering groan, Jessica sunk to the ground, forehead resting in the doorframe. She retched several times, the pounding in her head increasing tenfold. The sparse light thrown from an old table lamp inside pierced her eyes like knives, and she remained on the ground, taking slight comfort in the vaguely cool and blessedly dark night air.

Dogmeat lay beside her, nosing his head into her lap. The Australian Shepherd whined softly, licking at her hand. She looked down at him, grateful for the sympathy and morose over the fact that it was probably all she was going to get.

"Take another shot, drink all the water you can stomach and try to eat." The gravely voice floated on the still night air from down the ramp. Jessica raised her head carefully, catching sight of the figure in the neighboring door just before it slammed. The noise was like an ice pick in her eye. With a strangled moan, she rose to her feet, shielded her eyes from the lamp, and staggered to the kitchen.

A splash of whiskey sat in a dusty bottle on one shelf. The sight of it made her stomach heave again. She poured the liquor into a dirty shot glass, taking care not to smell it. Holding her breath, Jessica threw it back, gagging and inhaling a portion into her windpipe. The resulting coughing fit nearly made her puke again, but through force of will and a firm hand over the mouth, she was able to keep it down.

"Water," she choked, one hand fanning her crimson face furiously.

"Certainly, madam!" The overly-cheery, mechanized voice of the robot "butler", Wadsworth, grated like nails on glass. Humming leisurely under his breath, the Mister Handy unit hovered in the air for a moment, an access panel on its front finally sliding open. A sanitized glass was filled with clean, if lukewarm water, and the young woman drank greedily.

The liquid cooled her ragged throat, and her headache was beginning to fade from excruciating to merely throbbing. She managed to make her way unsteadily up the stairs, collapsing on the mattress. The old, rusty bed protested loudly as she hit, and the girl pressed her face into the musty mattress. The smell was beginning to seem almost comforting.

She could hear the clack of Dogmeat's nails as he scrambled after her, hopping onto the foot of the bed and curling up tightly. Tail over his nose, the dog huffed once, eyes sliding shut. His fur tickled the bottoms of her bare feet as she lay in silence, the soft sounds of the night drifting through the ratty walls.

Jessica flicked on the backlight for her Pip-Boy. It was nearly two thirty in the morning. She'd been unconscious for over twelve hours.

"Gotta do something soon, Meat," she whispered, more to herself than the sleeping dog. "Dad's trail is already cold. We can't wait anymore, or…" she stopped, unable to voice the thought eating persistently at her mind.

_You'll never see him again._

The thought made her eyes prickle hotly. She blinked back the tears angrily, pulling roughly on her hair. It was time to stop dicking around.

"I didn't crawl all the way up here to hang around in a fucking puddle," she whispered to herself. "He's out there. I know he's still alive, and I'm gonna find out who the hell he thinks he is, leaving me without even saying goodbye."

Her mind was churning, running through all the information she'd gathered since passing over that steel threshold. Even now, she could hear it in the back of her mind; the grate of four tons of steel, rolling over gigantic cogs and finally sliding into place. Ten feet long, six feet in diameter. That door had always kept danger in stories, and the imaginations of children.

"_Daddy, I want to have a 'venture." Five year old Jessica MacGinnis lay in her bed, teddy bear clutched tightly to her chest. Big brown eyes were wide and sparkling with excitement as they met with a larger pair, brimming with adoration and amusement._

"_It's 'adventure', sweetie," the young man corrected gently, tucking the little girl snugly in. "And you'll have plenty, I promise."_

"_I want a adventure _now_," Jessica begged, burrowing into the soft blankets. "Just like Grognak! I'm gonna be a hero and save everyone from dragons!"_

"_That sounds like a fantastic idea," James told her, a smile tugging at his lips. "Tell you what. I'll talk to the Overseer tomorrow, and arrange a playdate with Amata. You two can kill all the dragons you like."_

"_I wanna play outside." The little girl told him seriously._

"_The atrium isn't open all the time, honey, remember?"_

"_No," Jessica shook her head, pigtails splayed on the pillow. "I wanna go out the _big_ door." James blanched, swallowing sharply._

"_We don't go outside, sweetheart," the doctor spoke carefully. "What on earth would make you ask a thing like that?"_

"_Mrs. Palmer said people went outside." The little girl frowned. "Me and Amata heard her talking to Mr. Abernathy, but Amata said her daddy says no one ever goes outside. Why not?"_

"_That, I'm afraid, is a discussion for another time." James leaned forward, kissing the girl on the forehead. "Now get to sleep. It's past your bedtime."_

"_Will you play with me tomorrow, Daddy?" Jessica asked as the doctor rose to his feet, their previous discussion all but gone from her mind._

"_Daddy's busy tomorrow," James answered apologetically. "I have lots of work to do. Besides, you two will have more fun without boring old Daddy around."_

"_But you can be the dragon!" the girl insisted._

"_I promise, we'll spend time together soon. Now get to sleep, dear. Tomorrow's another big day."_

Sweet, warm memories. The dusty air left them with a bitter aftertaste. Somewhere in the distance, an explosion rang through the air. Several dogs began to bark, dying off after a moment. The night was full of small noises, from irradiated insects to the ever-present creak of Megaton as the metal structure settled.

She was forming a plan. So far, it wasn't a very good plan, but it was better than sitting around in a stupor. She'd need another few days to recover physically, and secure a few items.

First thing tomorrow, it was time to get serious.


	4. Chapter 4

Jessica stared at the clipboard on the desk in front of her, chewing methodically on the end of a pencil. Her hangover had, blessedly, faded with her first hit of Jet. Now the paper was covered in lists, rows of numbers, and even more scrawled notes.

_Avoid riverbank_

_Avoid large rocks_

_Avoid metro_

_Avoid open road_

These stood out sharply, traced over and over then underlined heavily.

"Then where the fuck am I supposed to walk?" she demanded of no one in particular, running over a borrowed map. At least Moira wasn't completely useless; her connections with the caravans gave her access to fairly accurate topographical information. Most pre-war maps proved worthless, designed for those in motor vehicles and assuming all roads were in good repair. Two hundred years of anarchy later, it was far more important to know which areas needed avoiding, rather than the most direct route.

Jessica began to chew faster as she stared at the primary list, little boxes drawn neatly beside each objective.

1. Find out what Moriarty knows (list B)

2. Obtain funds for equipment (list C)

3. Gather equipment (list A)

4. Get the (H) outta (D)

She lightly traced the pencil tip under list B: persons closely involved with Moriarty, who might be persuaded to part with information more cheaply than the oily Irishman.

"Three hundred caps my blistered ass," the young woman grumbled under her breath.

List B was depressingly short, and equally unappealing.

Gob.

Nova.

Jericho.

She didn't have anything specific against the resident ghoul, besides his tendency to make her gag reflex act up. What was really infuriating was the way he just let people walk on him; Gob would take insults, slaps, and even spit to the face with his head bowed and eyes downcast. Most people found it entertaining, a select few felt sorry for him. Jessica was disgusted.

Nova wasn't any better. Moriarty treated her with just as much scorn, if not actual physical violence. Yet she never voiced outrage; hell, she rarely spoke except to flirt with whoever happened to catch her heavily-kohled eyes.

Then there was Jericho. Jessica had caught glimpses of the man several times before their encounter, and had yet to see him sober. He was rude, ornery, and always angry about something; not to mention he smelled even worse than she did.

She felt a smirk creep over her face. It was strangely satisfying to recall their spat, even if he had ended up repaying her in double for the black eye. Both her own were now swollen in shades of purple and black, and her jaw ached dully.

"Should probably give it a few days before I try and play nice," Jessica muttered to herself. She moved the pencil tip to list C: odd job candidates.

2. Walter

3. Stahls

Number one, Moira Brown, had been scratched out until the paper beneath tore. Jessica sighed, wiping a few beads of sweat from her forehead. The sun had only been in the sky a few hours, but the day already promised to be a scorcher.

"Better go before it gets hot," she grumbled. Jessica made her way outside reluctantly, squinting against the sunlight. She had donned her original Vault suit, which now served as her "around town" wear. The resilient fabric was only beginning to fray around the legs and sleeves, designed for long wear and numerous users. It was also intended for sanitary conditions, with the assumption it would be washed now and again. The once-blue fabric was fading to a muted shade of gray beneath the unforgiving sun, white bands of dried sweat radiating from the collar, underarms and back.

Jessica knew she ought to throw it out. The suit stank, offered no protection, and the faded yellow 101 still stood out in the otherwise gray-scape of the Wastes. But despite the dirt, sweat and smell, she couldn't bear to be rid of it. The suit was one of the few things she had left from the Vault, a small reminder of times when every moment wasn't a struggle for survival. As much as rational thought demanded she burn the thing immediately, the soft fabric made her feel a little closer to her father.

She made her way down the main decline and took an immediate right, lip curling slightly as she neared the town Brahmin. One of its two heads turned to watch her, lowing softly as it chewed something unidentifiable. Jessica glared, and continued onto the roof of Church's clinic. She stomped especially hard as she passed, tennis shoes resounding off the reinforced metal. She thought she picked up swearing through one of the ventilation pipes, snickering to herself as she continued up.

The door to the water purification plant had been propped open, hoping to catch whatever stray breezes blew into the crater. Jessica rapped on the doorframe, peering into the gloomy interior.

"Huh?" A voice snorted from somewhere in the shadows. From beneath one of the pumps, an old, dark-skinned man pulled himself laboriously into sight. "Yeah?" he continued, obviously annoyed. "What is it?"

"Hey, it's Walter, right?" Jessica put forth. The old man frowned, bushy white eyebrows furrowing in displeasure.

"Look, I don't have any time to chat," he told her shortly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I dropped a bolt up here somewhere."

Jessica had a bit of experience in maintenance (James insisted she be at least partially versed in every aspect of the Vault's workings) and knew how much work was required in the upkeep of machinery. This purifier looked to have been cobbled together from whatever pieces were available at the time; the young woman marveled inwardly that it worked at all.

"Actually, I'm hoping you have some work for me," she continued doggedly. "I don't know a lot about purifiers, but I know my way around a toolbox."

"You're that Vault kid, ain'tcha." Walter gave her an appraising look, brows still furrowed. "Tell you what, missy. I'll give you five caps an hour to help me out around here."

Jessica sighed inaudibly. She wasn't sure what she'd been hoping for, but somehow felt slighted.

"Fine," she grumbled, "where do you want me to start?"

"Get into my toolbox and find the ½ inch wrench," the old man instructed, pulling himself back underneath the pump. With another sigh, Jessica stepped into the gloomy water plant and began fishing through a rusty toolbox.

"Ratchet or box?" she asked after a moment.

"Ratchet," Walter replied; the young woman slapped a wrench into his outstretched hand, and sat quietly while he worked.

For the better part of an hour, she handed the old repairman tools and fetched small parts from the office. Even mostly stationary, she was sweating profusely when Walter finally pulled himself back into sight, grunting from the effort. He rose to his feet with some difficulty, joints creaking in protest.

"Not too shabby," he admitted, futilely dusting off his filthy jumpsuit. "So you know about tools-" Walter raised one eyebrow, "how about plumbing?"

"Er---" Jessica shrugged noncommittally. "I've unclogged a toilet and fixed a few leaky sinks."

"Great!" The old man was suddenly several shades cheerier. "Now you're going to learn how to fix a leaky main."

Jessica spent the remainder of the day learning more about plumbing than she'd ever wanted to know. The boring afternoons spent with Stanley, primarily as an idle observer, suddenly seemed like a vacation. The entire plant was dirty, rusty, and full of jagged edges; close inspection also revealed it to be in much worse shape than she'd originally thought.

"How is this piece of shit even _running_?" she'd demanded several hours in. Walter had given her a scathing look in return.

"This thing has been providing relatively clean water to the town for over sixty years, and I've kept it going almost that long. She'll last as long as there's someone to look after her properly." His tone dictated that she'd touched on a sensitive subject, and Jessica dropped it immediately.

She worked with the repairman for several days before her patience wore thin. The handful of caps she received each evening was barely enough to cover her slowly-increasing Jet habit.

She rationalized the addiction as well as she could; without stimulants, she simply wasn't designed to survive in such conditions. She needed the extra boost every time she stepped outside the gates to pick over the surrounding countryside, gathering every intact item she came across.

Apart from several small stashes of ammunition, various edibles and two StimPaks, most of her findings were worthless. Nevertheless, she always returned with a bulging pack, filled with every tin can and milk bottle she came across. As much as she coaxed and coerced, only one of the traveling merchants was willing to trade for what was generally considered garbage. She did, however, inadvertently made a friend in Crazy Wolfgang.

"Ah, a fellow junk junkie!" The rather frazzled-looking man gave her a wide, toothy grin, arms spread wide as Jessica emptied a pile of clutter onto the ground. "Madam, I'd tip my hat to you, had I one to tip."

The young woman could only purse her lips and watch when the merchant flopped onto the dirt, beginning to sort through the items with a rapt expression on his face.

"Good quality, decent finish…I'll give you thirty three for the lot."

"That's a load of crap," Jessica stated flatly, looking over what had taken her the better part of two days to accumulate.

"No, _this_ is a load of crap," Wolfgang motioned to the pile, "and the finest I've seen all day. Tell you what. For a fellow connoisseur, we'll make it thirty five."

"Let me guess," the young woman began, pressing her fingertips against her eyes, "I'm getting a real bargain."

"Quite so, madam, quite so. I'd even go so far as to say it's your lucky day." Wolfgang offered her another disquieting grin.

"I make my own luck." Jessica folded her arms across her chest. "And I want fifty."

"Now now now," Wolfgang shook his head sadly. "Madam, I am but a humble gatherer of garbage. I've my own addendums to elucidate…Forty caps. Do we have a deal?" The junk vendor rose smoothly to his feet and extended a dirty, calloused hand. The young woman stared at it for a moment.

"Only if you promise to stop using words you don't really know," she muttered, accepting the handshake gingerly. Wolfgang grabbed her in a crushing grip, the manic smile spread across his face again.

"Excellent, excellent!" The man withdrew four small cloth pouches from somewhere on his person and presented them with a flourish; immediately losing interest in the young woman, he dropped to the ground and began to sort the items into piles. Jessica weighed the bundles in her hand before pocketing them with a sigh. She snapped her fingers authoritatively; Dogmeat, who lay panting in the shade of a partially-submerged bathtub, leapt up and bounded to her side.

The sun beat brutally on the parched landscape, heat waves rising from the hulking metal town. Sweat was already beading on Jessica's forehead and back as she turned toward the gates, hesitating as the smell of a hundred-odd unwashed, sweating people wafted toward her.

"Come on, Meat, let's get changed and take a walk," she coaxed the dog. At the word 'walk', Dogmeat's ears pricked up excitedly. Once inside, Jessica pulled her hair into a tight bun, then turned in her increasingly filthy Vault suit for a reinforced model, extra padding and several mismatched metal bits sewn across the fabric. It offered some protection from the elements and sharp rocks, but her encounter with the Mirelurks had left several gaping holes throughout.

"I gotta find a damn sewing kit," she groused under her breath, tucking a gallon of water and dog dish into the bottom of her scavving pack. A few bandages, threadbare blanket, and some extra ammunition were thrown on top. Finally, Jessica situated her rifle harness on her back and checked her pistol holster, making sure both allowed easy access to the weapons. A nicked combat knife was strapped to her right thigh; a wide-brimmed, shady hat completed the ensemble.

The girl's stomach growled loudly. Jessica kneaded it firmly with her fist, willing the hunger pains to subside. Her kitchen and refrigerator were empty, and she wasn't ready to part with any of her hard-earned caps just yet. Instead, she snatched up a dull red inhaler from the top of a bookcase and took a quick puff. Her dry lips tingled as the fine mist coated her windpipe and lungs; the surroundings took on a sudden intense clarity, every mote of dust hanging in the air shining and brilliant. Her limbs grew light, and the gnawing hunger retreated to plot its inevitable return.

When she left the house, locking the door behind her, she turned around to find someone watching her.

"Jericho." Her tone was cool and slightly mistrustful. The man leered at her from down the ramp, the reek of alcohol reaching her nose even from several feet away.

"You're upta somethin," he slurred, swaying slightly on the walk. "Seen you pokin' around, nosing in the plant, by the foundation. You a scout?" The last word was spit out venomously. Jessica stared at the drunken older man, folding her arms across her chest with annoyance.

"Wow, you're pretty plastered for nine in the morning." Jessica simpered unpleasantly. "I'm impressed. Did you have to wake up early?"

"Bitch, I asked you a question." Jericho took a few shuffled steps toward her, a near-empty bottle of scotch clutched in one hand. "You scoutin' Megaton?"

"Yeah, I'm a scout," she bit back sarcastically. Her refreshed high was making her feel particularly confrontational. "The Vault is gonna open up and tear your shitty little town apart for scrap." The young woman spat on the walk. "What the hell are you gonna do about it?"

She immediately regretted the decision. Jericho was on her in a flash. The bottle fell from his hand, shattering on the ground. He pressed one arm against her windpipe, the other holding her right wrist as he pushed her mercilessly into the side of her house. His normally booze-clouded eyes were alight with something akin to murderous glee. Dogmeat immediately fell into a crouch, hackles raised and teeth bared as he prepared to spring.

"Down, Meat," Jessica managed to choke, motioning the dog furiously with her free hand. "It was a joke," she continued frantically, struggling to pull herself free. Jericho sneered, less than an inch from her. His breath hit her full in the face, making Jessica's eyes water.

"Then what the hell you doin' poking around?" the man demanded, glancing once at the still-growling dog. The animal was wound like a spring, ready to strike the instant his mistress allowed.

"Fucking odd jobs," the young woman rasped, struggling furiously against the man's grip. It was stronger than she would have imagined. His body pressed her flush against the house, eliminating any chance to kick him somewhere painful. His calloused fingers dug into her wrist; her fingertips were starting to tingle.

"You're a damn liar," he snarled. She could make out every feature on his weathered face. Three long, half-healed scabs were puckered dark red against his scruffy cheek; the rest of his face was leathery and crossed with aged scars. A large patch of eyebrow was missing, and his bared teeth were yellow and chipped.

"I swear to god," she pleaded, spots beginning to dance across her vision. "I need to find my dad. I need money for supplies. I was helping Walter fix the FUCKING PIPES!" She managed to bring a semblance of volume back for the final words, little flecks of spittle landing on Jericho's face. The man curled his lip, releasing the pressure on her throat. He did not let go of her arm.

"You got a smart mouth," he growled dangerously. "Only thing I hate more than this _fucking _town is bitches with smart mouths. So you listen good." Jericho licked his lips, leaning forward until the tip of his nose nearly touched hers. "You think you're special, crawlin' out of that hole. Think you're so much _better_ than us, out here in this god-forsaken Waste." He spoke quietly, eyes narrowed. "You ain't shit. I don't like you, and I sure as hell ain't gonna take any lip. So quit with the little smile and stay the fuck outta my way." The man gave Dogmeat a final, disparaging look before releasing his grip on Jessica and stepping back. The young woman sank to the ground, hands around her throat as she glared at Jericho.

"You're fucking psycho," Jessica spat. She grimaced; her windpipe felt bruised. "Get the hell away from me."

"Watch your back," the older man replied casually. He strode away, heading toward Moriarty's. The girl sat in a stupor, knees to her chest. She took a moment to catch her breath, mentally reviewing her repertoire of curse words.

"What the _fuck?!_" Jessica finally demanded, clenching her shaking hands into fists. She hoisted herself upright with some difficulty, adrenaline coursing through her body. "I hate it here SO much," she growled, retrieving her satchel and hat from the ground. Dogmeat was still crouched, staring after Jericho with hackles raised.

"Come off it," the girl grumbled, rubbing her throat one more. "He's just drunk and stupid. Remind me to take him off the list."

The pair left Megaton before the sun was at its zenith, setting off toward the empty shell of Springvale. Dogmeat bounded merrily ahead, dashing back and forth while sniffing for anything of interest. Jessica took her time plodding across the parched ground, sweat dripping in her eyes as the sun beat overhead.

They followed the northbound trail toward a towering, rust-red rocket, several derelict cars dotting the streets. Jessica knelt in one of their sparse shadows as she sipped a bottle of water, squirming uncomfortably against the grit on her sweaty skin. Dust and sand were working their way into easily-chafed places; the girl scratched herself futilely.

Jessica raised her head when Dogmeat began to bark, heart leaping. After a moment, she relaxed. It was an excited, almost pleased yipping, very different from his reaction to eminent danger.

"What?" she demanded of the Australian Shepherd, scanning the empty streets for her companion. He ran out of a blasted foundation, fell to his front paws, and barked happily before bounding back inside.

Intrigued, Jessica made her way to the skeletal remains of the house, clambering over a pile of rubble and ducking though a hole in the wall. The dog was pawing at an overturned, rotting bookcase, pausing occasionally to sniff it with excitement. His tail wagged as the girl approached.

"What?" She repeated, hands on her hips. Dogmeat looked up and barked happily, quickly resuming his examination.

"Lizard, huh? Let me help you out." Jessica searched around briefly before picking up a long piece of rebar. Using it as a lever, she wiggled the bookcase free from years of packed sand and debris. Bracing herself, she put the bottom of her shoe against one side and pushed. The wooden shelves creaked morosely, sliding slowly across the dirt.

Jessica frowned when no small animals made a break for new cover. Dogmeat barked happily, scrabbling furiously at the packed dirt with his claws. The young woman shook her head, taking another sip of water.

"You're crazy," she told the dog dryly. "Come on, you can dig holes anywhere."

Dogmeat's claws were no longer scratching dirt; a shrill squeal made her cringe as he pawed at something metallic. Curious, she knelt beside her companion, using her rebar to assist. After a moment, the pair unearthed a metal footlocker. Jessica fiddled with the rusty lock a short time before giving up and smashing it. Grunting, she pried open the box and pushed back the lid.

Her companion yipped joyously, immediately attacking a stash of rank Brahmin jerky. Jessica grimaced, forearm over her nose.

"Ew," she commented. "Take your gross treasure and eat it over there." Looking back into the footlocker, she grinned; Jessica pulled out a bottle of vodka, two Salisbury steaks, and a pair of leather combat boots. Plopping against a crumbling wall, she tore into one of the red packages and proceeded to devour its contents. The sealed, 200 year old food was miraculously still edible, if only barely. The girl pushed resolutely past the urge to gag as the slimy, chunky gravy coated her mouth; her tongue tingled unpleasantly as she swallowed, still-raw throat burning as the irradiated food passed.

Hunger satiated, she untied her ragged tennis shoes, setting them to the side as she pulled on the boots. They were several sizes too big; she laced them tightly, stuffing the vodka into one of her shoes before situating it all in the pack.

"Good boy," she told Dogmeat affectionately, scratching him behind the ears. She slung her satchel over one shoulder and pulled her hat firmly down her brow, whistling for the dog to follow.

They continued northwest, following a rocky outcropping toward the remains of a freeway. After an hour of hiking, Jessica stopped to catch her breath, panting as she wiped muddy sweat from her brow and neck. She was halfway up a sloping hill, and could make out Megaton to the southeast. The rusty walls stood out like a scab on the Wastes.

"There's nothing out here," she grumbled, plopping onto a rock for a rest. She fished out the dog bowl and a bottle of water, whistling Dogmeat to her side. As he drank, Jessica rested her chin on her knees and gazed lazily over the Wasteland.

The desert was slowly devouring humanity's bleached bones. The ever-present wind blew like a sand-blaster, gnawing on the skeletal remnants of society. The same wind threw grit against Jessica's face, forcing its way past her eyelashes and up her nose. She coughed, wincing as she felt her lower lip crack open and begin to bleed. She swore under her breath, taking another drink of water.

They passed beneath the freeway, making a brief westward detour to investigate an ancient windmill. Jessica refilled her empty water bottles and took a long drink, then doused her head beneath the murky stream. The water was tepid, had a bitter, metallic taste and lingering burn.

Feeling refreshed and just a little bit cleaner, the girl replaced her hat and picked up the satchel, ready to move on. Frowning, she searched around for Dogmeat.

He was nowhere to be seen. The dog had been lapping at a puddle beneath the windmill just before she washed her face. Jessica put her fingers in her mouth and whistled. The shrill sound was immediately caught and whisked away by the wind.

"DOGMEAT!" The girl shouted, a seed of panic settling into her stomach. She forced herself to take a deep breath. Her heart was beating faster, little prickles stabbing her fingertips. She shaded her eyes with one hand and stared across the bleak hillside. Dogmeat was nowhere to be seen. To the north, a cluster of trailers and picnic tables were shaded by a rocky crag. Dirt and scrub grass stretched for miles in all other directions.

Jessica jogged down the hill, heading toward the campsite. The seed in her belly was sprouting into full-blown terror. She slowed to a walk when she approached the first trailer, sticking her head inside. It was empty, covered in several inches of packed dirt.

"Oh my god," she muttered under her breath. Jessica's heart was pounding against her ribcage. Dogmeat was her friend and companion. With the animal by her side, the Wasteland didn't seem so vast and empty. She could feel pressure building behind her eyes; her mind wandered to dark places, envisioning Dogmeat being discovered, killed and eaten by God-knew-what.

Her stomach leaped into her mouth when she heard barking. Jessica stared around, searching for the source. It was coming from the north; the girl sprinted up a small incline, cliffs rising to her left. She reached the top of the hill, and gasped with relief as Dogmeat appeared over the top. He ran straight to her, crouching by her legs.

"Where the HELL have you---" Jessica began to scold. Angry voices carried on the wind. She shut her mouth with a snap, staring at Dogmeat with disbelief. He cowered behind her, tail between his legs. At the base of the hill, she could make out the remains of a house. Several tiny figures moved in the frame. The wind blew south past the crag; Jessica coughed. A whiff of carrion settled unpleasantly into the back of her throat.

The figures were moving swiftly up the hill. The girl made out the silhouettes of rifles in their hands; swearing fluidly under her breath, she turned and ran back the way she'd come.

She stared around frantically for a place to hide. Jessica was familiar with the psychotic Wasteland rabble collectively referred to as Raiders; usually drugged beyond pain and fear, they were merciless, sadistic killers who roamed the barrens in nomadic packs. She was a decent shot, but didn't stand a chance outnumbered and without good cover.

A little gully led into the cliff. Part of a rusty chain-link fence stood as lone sentry; a radiation hazard sign hung precariously from it. Jessica debated. With a wall to her back, she had a much better chance of fending off an attack. She would also eliminate any chance of an escape route.

She could hear voices; they would crest the rise at any moment. She sprinted down the gully, legs shaking as she tried to melt into the shadows. Jessica slunk down a gentle hill, the gully sides tapering together to form a shallow cave. Dogmeat was growling softly, hackles raised as he stared behind them.

She reached the far wall, pressing her back to the warm rock. Her heart beat loudly against her ribs; she was nearly blind in the sudden gloom, eyes adjusting from the sunlight. She blinked several times, certain she was seeing things. A splintering wooden door was built into the rock. The handle was missing, broken off long ago. Jessica gave it a tentative push. There was some give, but years of dirt and wind effectively sealed the frame. She threw her weight against it. With an agonized creak, it scraped over the rocks until she'd made a small crack.

Jessica shoved her bag inside, then wedged her shoulders through, grunting as she struggled to pull herself in. Dogmeat slipped between her legs, vanishing into the cool darkness. She was pressed tightly between the rotting door and rock wall. It was a struggle to breathe; the girl wiggled, effectively wedging herself more tightly. For a moment, blind panic overtook her senses. She was trapped. Unable to move in either direction, she thrashed and grunted, dust and little pebbles trickling through her hair and down her neck.

With a grating squeal, the door gave another inch. Jessica let out the air from her lungs and pulled with all her might. She slipped through the doorframe, collapsing in the dirt. A sliver of light from the open door let her see perhaps three feet; she was in a short, narrow passage, stretching deep into the dusky gloom. Jessica took a deep breath. She didn't smell rot or fecal matter, a good indication the place was uninhabited. The air was dry and cool.

She could still hear voices outside. They were almost close enough for her to pick out words. The girl flipped on her Pip-Boy light, grabbed her pack and proceeded into the darkness. Dogmeat trotted beside her, tail pressed firmly against his hindquarters. Debris littered the floor, from old food packaging to the remains of crude beds.

Jessica blinked and rubbed her eyes. A red light flashed from deeper in the cave. She proceeded slowly, pistol drawn. When she reached the source, she nearly forgot how to breathe.

A massive, round cog was nestled deep in the rock. Beside it was a console, a little data screen surrounded by buttons and levers. Jessica pressed her hand against the Vault door, reassuring herself it was real. The steel was cold beneath her palm. Fingers shaking, she focused on the panel; her fingers danced across the buttons, and the red light turned yellow. She frowned. There was no door encryption.

The girl wasn't sure what she was trying to accomplish. From her own experiences in the Vault, she didn't think a warm welcome would be in order. But she was going to try. If nothing else, she might be able to get a drink of clean water and wash her underwear.

She was trembling as she pushed the last button. A loud, blaring alarm made her cringe; she'd forgotten about that. Anything nearby was certain to have heard.

"Come on, come _on,_" she muttered, shifting her weight impatiently while the rotating light flashed overhead. After several agonizing seconds, there was a long, metallic screech. With a cloud of rust and dirt, the door slid backward, then rolled to one side. Jessica bolted through, feverishly punching the controls on the other side. It slid shut with another ear-piercing shriek. The girl collapsed on the metal steps, head in her hands as she struggled to catch her breath.

It took her a minute to calm down. When her heart finally stopped racing, she wiped cold sweat from her brow and looked around. The emergency lighting cast heavy shadows around the entrance room. Garbage and detritus were strewn about; decay hung heavy in the air.

"Hello?" Jessica called out tentatively. Her voice echoed though the empty metal corridors. An eerie feeling crept over the girl, making her skin crawl. She shook herself and stood up.

"_Hello_?" She repeated loudly, poking her head into the small office space. Scattered papers and broken coffee cups greeted her silently. She made her way deeper into the Vault, its familiarity comforting and disconcerting all at once. Her footsteps echoed loudly off the walls. The air was cool and musty; a strange, barely discernable odor clung to her tongue.

The foyer was empty. It looked as though a scuffle had taken place; overturned shelves and spilled boxes littered the area. Jessica paused in front of a hydraulic door, running her fingers gently over the control pad. The light blinked green, meaning there was power and pressure behind the door. The girl paused, indecisive. The macabre stillness was making her more nervous by the minute, but she didn't fancy the idea of testing her luck with the Raiders outside. Jessica was pretty certain they wouldn't be able to open the door; she was positive they'd at least try.

She pushed the button. The door to the living quarters slid open with a quiet hiss. Dogmeat whined, backing slowly away.

"What's wrong with you?" Jessica frowned. "It's your own fault we're in here, now I want to look around." She pointed deliberately through the door. "Get."

Still whining, the dog slunk ahead. Jessica followed, shivering when the door slid closed behind her. She took a deep breath, and pushed the niggling fear to the back of her mind.

Stairs stretched ahead of her, leading down into darkness. Jessica shifted her pack and began the descent.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N. I'd like to send a shout-out and thank you to my buddy SentientSurfer, whose inspiring words and feedback have kept me staring at the keyboard even when my muses are on holiday. You ought to check out their stories; the novel is in my community, but there's a cute one-shot and an ultra-depressing short story on their page.

I know I've kept my few faithful readers in suspense for a while. I'll try to be more prompt in the future, but I'm a fickle writer. I appreciate all your feedback and faves; it's so nice that you guys like my work =)

Chapter Five

Jessica held her arm aloft, illuminating the hallway ahead of her. She squinted, heart fluttering anxiously. The living quarters had lost most of their emergency lighting; deep shadows added to the macabre atmosphere of the cold, empty Vault. Invisible eyes bored holes in her back. The silent walls amplified every sound; she jumped when Dogmeat nudged a tin can, heart leaping to her throat. With a deep breath, she forced herself to focus. The creepy atmosphere was making her flighty and irrational.

As they explored, Jessica's initial fear melted into curiosity. It looked as though the place had been abandoned for some time. Passing through the offices, she wondered at overturned tables and broken monitors. A soft hum greeted her ears at the top of more stairs. The ventilation system was still running. She proceeded with renewed vigor; there was likely to be a working faucet around somewhere.

The Vault was similar to 101, though some structural differences nearly got her lost. She wandered for several hours through labyrinthine corridors, pocketing an occasional trinket. She found little of actual use, though an active terminal drew her interest for a moment. What data remained intact was a note from the former Overseer, assuaging fears about a malfunction with the air system. She glanced over it briefly before turning away, bored. Jessica grinned as she caught sight of a first aid box, proceeding to smash the lock and loot its stash of bandages and Stim-Paks.

The dorm area was mostly intact. Jessica searched the hall frantically, on the watch for a particular door. When she found the bathroom, she forced herself to keep calm. She stepped into the white tiled room, looking with longing at rows of sinks and a shower set into one wall. She took a deep breath, running a hand over one of the faucets. Eyes closed, she turned the knob.

With a loud cough and splutter, rust-red water shot from the spigot. It choked for several agonizing moments before running smooth and clear. Jessica laughed aloud. She stuck her head into the sink and drank deeply, filling her belly with cool, clean water. When her shrunken stomach began to slosh, protruding like a basketball, she stood up and wiped her lips. She stood face to face with a mirror; Jessica stared at the girl, hardly believing her eyes.

It had been almost a month since she'd gotten a good look at herself. The polished metal sheets that usually passed for mirrors gave a vague and forgiving reflection. The woman looking back at her was a stranger.

Her ivory complexion was ruddy red, skin peeling off her lips, nose and forehead. Her eye sockets were dark and bruised, cheeks sunken. Out of morbid curiosity, Jessica opened her mouth and examined her teeth. With a groan, she put her hand over the reflection. She'd once though herself reasonably attractive. Now she was gaunt, bruised, and rad-burned; she could honestly call herself revolting.

Jessica turned away from the mirror and toward the shower. It also spluttered with disapproval, but soon ran clear. She grinned manically, throwing off her hat and untying her hair. When the water began to steam, she nearly cried. Clean water had been more than she was willing to hope for; clean, _hot_ water was nothing short of a miracle.

Dogmeat paced the room, whining anxiously. As his mistress stripped off her weapons and armored suit, he began to bark insistently.

"Shut the hell up," Jessica snapped. She pulled off her boots and stepped under the spigot, allowing the water to run over her body. For the first few minutes, it burned her skin. She scrubbed furiously at caked dirt and sweat, doggedly ignoring several sores that began to bleed.

A shampoo dispenser on the wall still held several tablespoons of liquid. Jessica laughed uncontrollably as she scrubbed her scalp, tears of happiness mingling with the water on her face. She stood in the shower for the better part of an hour, using all the soap as she washed over and over. When her fingers and toes were puckered like raisins, she shut off the water with some regret. Jessica felt rejuvenated and light. When she took another look in the mirror, she could see some semblance of the doctor's daughter behind the bruises.

She shivered, dripping water on the floor. Jessica gathered up her clothes and weapons, keeping them as far from her skin as possible. She stepped back into the shadowy hall, making a beeline for one of the dorm rooms. The split dresser inside was still upright; two unmade beds sat against opposite walls. Jessica closed the door and deposited her gear. She opened the dresser; three clean Vault suits were folded neatly in the drawer. She pulled one out, and shoot it open.

The numbers 106 were stitched across the back. Jessica pulled it on, reveling at the feeling of soft, clean cloth. She threw the other suits in her bag, then sat on the edge of one of the beds. She checked her Pip-Boy; it marked the time at 7:46 P.M. She frowned, pondering her options.

"Getting late," she addressed the dog and empty room, "the Raiders are probably gone, but it'll be dark soon." Jessica shook her head, wet hair tickling her neck. "I guess we're staying the night." She lay out on the bed with a long sigh. No springs jabbed her back; it enveloped her tired body in a cloud of comfort.

She was picking up a strange taste. It tickled her nose, slightly astringent and slightly sweet. Jessica sneezed once. She was very comfortable; her body was getting heavy, sinking into the soft bed. The hum of generators and air circulation were familiar and comforting. When she closed her eyes, she could picture herself back in Vault 101, lying in her bedroom.

Dad would be out in the living area, leafing through a book or writing in one of his journals. Jessica could see his kind face behind her eyes. She vividly remembered the last time she saw him; he'd hesitated a moment before saying goodnight. She hadn't thought anything of it. She'd hugged him and shrugged off his sad little smile. A tear trickled down her cheek. She took a deep breath, noting that she was getting very sleepy.

The hum grew louder, filling her head with white noise and drowning out her thoughts. She could hear Dogmeat whining, scratching at the base of the door. She intended to tell him to be quiet. Instead, she found herself sitting across from Amata, sharing a plate of French Fries in the cafeteria.

"I don't see what the big deal is." Fifteen year old Jessica pushed a blob of ketchup into interesting designs. "We were only out two hours past curfew. Besides, it's not like there's anywhere to GO." She munched sullenly.

"It's all your fault." Amata glared at her companion. "I told you we should have gone back. Not only did my dad give me fifty thousand extra chores, I'm gonna have to listen to the 'responsibility' speech every night until I _die._" The olive skinned girl huffed. "I'm never listening to you again."

"Aw, come on," Jessica gave her a lopsided grin. "You have to admit, we had fun until we got caught."

"Yeah, because sneaking around in storage so you can smoke cigarettes is a real blast," Amata grumbled.

"Hey, you were smoking, too." Jessica folded her arms across her chest. "I only took the blame because I love you."

"That and _your_ dad won't actually kill you for it." Amata sighed. "Thanks again for covering for me."

"I guess I kinda owed you," Jessica conceded. "How long you grounded?"

"Two months." Amata stared miserably at the table. "No sports, no vids, no friends. I'm going to lose my mind."

"We'll get through it," Jessica tried to cheer her up. "It's not forever-just almost."

"What about you?" Amata popped a fry into her mouth. "How mad was your dad?"

"He lectured me two hours straight about 'personal accountability', then ANOTHER hour about the dangers of smoking. Then he took away my vids and books." Jessica sighed. "I get them back in two months."

"House arrest?" Amata guessed. Jessica nodded glumly.

"School and chores. Otherwise I get to study and 'think about the consequences of my actions.'" Jessica wrinkled her nose. "Ok, you're right. This is gonna suck."

"Told you so," Amata grumbled. "At least you don't get the 'you're much too smart for this kind of childish nonsense' speech."

"You know my dad." Jessica shrugged. "It was more like 'I'm so disappointed, where did I go wrong, I thought I raised you better.'"

"Huh." Amata snorted. "Maybe they're not so different."

A shadow fell across the table. Both girls looked up, faces twisting into sneers. A tall teenage boy stood nearby, coiffed hair slicked back with grease. It glistened under the cafeteria lights. He offered them a condescending smile.

"Hey there, Daddy's Girls," Butch simpered. "I heard someone got in _trouble._ What, you get caught kissing in the generators?"

"Only in your wet dreams," Jessica spat back. Amata threw a hand over her mouth, face turning pink as she choked on giggles. The boy frowned, chomping furiously on his toothpick.

"I knew it." Butch sneered. "Not like you'd get in trouble anyway. Must be _nice_ being Vault Princess." He gave Amata a long, unpleasant smirk. She trembled with rage.

"I'll have you know," Amata began heatedly, "I'm grounded for two months and don't get to leave the apartment except for school and chores!" She crushed an unsuspecting French fry into mush.

"Poor BABY," Butch cried with mock horror. "What happened, you get a B on the math quiz?"

Amata's face was turning purple. She stood up and stomped over to face Butch. She glared up at him, at least five inches shorter. The boy stared down, grinning at his accomplishment. Jessica groaned. He knew just how to goad her friend into hysterics.

"We HAPPENED to be out after curfew." Amata seethed. Her hands were clenched into trembling fists. "We were down in storage, _drinking and smoking._" She finished in a furious whisper, glancing around to make sure no one else had heard.

Butch threw back his head and roared with laughter.

"That's rich!" he howled. "Like I'd believe that in a million years. Daddy's Girl AND a liar! Wait till I tell the guys."

"She's NOT lying!" Jessica was on her feet, pulling Amata back by her Vault suit. The girl was a frightening shade of crimson; she looked ready to jump on Butch at any second. Tears sparkled in her eyes.

"We were _so_ in storage," Jessica addressed Butch, pushing Amata behind her. "As a matter of fact," she dropped her voice to a whisper, "the cigarettes are still down there."

"So's the alcohol," Amata interjected, scrubbing her face angrily. "Me and Jessica were JUST about to ditch class to get them back."

"We were what now?" Jessica turned to her friend, telepathically screaming at her to shut up.

"Too bad you'll be in class," Amata continued, voice shaking. "It's gonna be AWESOME."

"You're both liars." Butch couldn't quite mask the intrigue in his voice. "You guys ain't got a full spine between you. I'll betcha three snack rations I see you both in class, fighting over who's gonna answer the questions."

"You're on," Amata snapped. "Come on, Jessica. Let's get away from this smelly asshole."

"Then you gotta take me with you." Butch smirked. "Otherwise I know you're lying. You'll just run to Daddy and have him give you a pass."

"Um-" Amata seemed to deflate, taking a step back. "It's our secret place," she fibbed lamely. "No smelly Tunnel Worms allowed."

"See? I knew it." Butch snorted. "Like the Princess would DARE break the rules."

"Just get the hell away from-" Jessica began, ready to accept defeat and plot their revenge.

"FINE," Amata shouted, making Jessica and Butch jump in surprise. "Meet us outside the maintenance corridors five minutes before class." She stuck her finger less than an inch from his face. "I'll show you who's a liar." She turned on her heel and stomped from the cafeteria, Jessica in hot pursuit.

"Amata, are you serious?" Jessica hissed. "If my dad finds out-if YOUR dad finds out-!"

"They won't find out." Amata stormed down the hallway, eyes snapping. "I'll show HIM who's a princess," she grumbled murderously.

"Brotch will call them!" Jessica jogged to keep up. "We'll get busted in ten minutes flat!"

"Not if he gets a letter from our dads excusing us from class," Amata retorted.

"WHY would our dads excuse us from class?" Jessica pressed.

"They should really change their mail passwords." The olive-skinned girl grinned dangerously. "I just need a computer."

Amata ducked into a computer laboratory, seating herself and typing furiously.

"Are you sure about this?" Jessica found herself flustered. She normally cajoled and coerced her friend into mischief, not the other way around. "We're already in hot water. If we get caught, we're going to be in SO much trouble."

"You wanna back out?" Amata snapped. "I already sent my letter. I don't need you to come."

"What'd it say?" Jessica stalled.

"Mr. Brotch," Amata dictated in an exaggerated baritone. "Please excuse my daughter Amata from class today. She has been confined to her quarters after a bout of insolence. Any homework should be delivered directly to her mailbox. The Overseer." Amata glared over her shoulder. "Sound enough like my dad?"

"Nice work with the mailbox," Jessica commended. "Your dad doesn't go through it?"

"I'll just have to get there first." Amata shrugged. "So you in, or are you going to class?"

"You know I can't leave you alone with that disgusting excuse for a boy. Besides, he'll probably bring his slimy little friends." Jessica sighed. "But I get to write my own letter."

"Here." Amata stood up, a wide grin on her face. "I already set it up for you."

Jessica rolled her eyes once. Her best friend knew her too well.

_Dear Mr. Brotch, _she began, _I'm sorry to inform you that Jessica will not be in class today. She's caught a bug; nothing serious, but I don't want her spreading it to the other students. Please forward her homework to her mailbox._

_Sincerely,_

_Dr. McGinnis_

"Just once," Jessica shivered with excitement as she pressed 'Send', "I'd like to rub Butch's smug face in it."

Amata nodded. "Come on, we've gotta hurry."

They walked quickly down the hall, looking around furtively for anyone who might ask why they weren't going to class. Meeting no one of consequence, the girls halted outside the maintenance access corridor. Jessica checked the clock; lunch would be over in eight minutes.

"Where the hell is he?" Amata shifted her weight nervously. "Maybe you were right." She glanced around, a bundle of nerves. "It's not worth it. My dad will MURDER me if he finds out-"

"It's too late for that now." Jessica crossed her arms over her chest. "We sent the e-mail. If we show up, Brotch will just call our dads to find out what happened." She grabbed Amata by the shoulders, halting her mid-pace. "It'll be fine," Jessica tried to reassure her. "We'll grab the cigarettes and a bottle of beer, and Butch will have to pry his foot out of his fat mouth."

Amata took a deep breath. She was staring behind Jessica; a scowl settled over her features. Jessica wrinkled her nose as the strong, sweet scent of hair oil washed over her.

"Well, well." Butch wore a crooked grin as he sauntered up the hall. "You actually showed up! I didn't think you had it in you, Princess."

"Just you?" Amata gave him a withering stare. "I didn't think you went anywhere without your friends to back you up."

Butch scoffed.

"Like I said, I didn't think you'd show." He shrugged, chewing on his toothpick. "So let's go. Unless you're chicken."

"Ok, ok." Amata looked around furtively. The hallway was empty; she punched an access code into the door, and it slid open. The teenagers ducked quickly inside, shutting it behind them. A nervous giggle echoed through the empty corridor; Jessica clapped hand over her mouth, glancing sheepishly at Amata. Her friend was turning a sickly shade of gray.

"All right, where's the smokes?" Butch flicked back a greasy strand of hair.

"Shut up and follow me." Amata led the trio through the maze-like storage corridors, lined with numbered doors. A sense of foreboding built steadily in Jessica's stomach. She secretly envied Butch's nonchalant demeanor, willing her hands to quit shaking. She stayed close to Amata, drawing comfort and camaraderie from her friend. The Overseer's daughter looked as anxious as she felt.

"Do you even know where you're going?" Butch demanded impatiently after several long minutes. Amata threw him a withering stare.

"We're almost there. Keep your hair on." She passed several more doors, finally stopping and looking around furtively. "Ok, they're in here."

Butch shoved past her, pressing the door button repeatedly.

"It's locked." He stared at the girls accusingly. "What now, Princess?"

Amata was already fishing in her hair, producing a bobby pin and pulling it open with her teeth. She pushed past Butch with a frown, kneeling down and fidgeting with the lock mechanism. Butch snorted.

"You don't know how-" A quiet click rang through the hallway, and the door slid open with a hiss. Amata looked up in triumph.

"I'm sorry, I don't know how to WHAT?" She gave him a wide grin; Butch scowled, waving a hand dismissively.

"Anyone can do that," he grumbled.

"Uh huh. Whatever." The grin was still plastered over Amata's face as she stepped into the cubicle. Jessica followed on her heels; Butch hesitated, looking once over his shoulder. When the trio was inside, Jessica closed the door. She pulled a box from behind a pile of clutter, reaching inside and brandishing a red and white pack.

"Told you so," she lilted, pulling out one of the little cylinders and holding it carefully against her lips. She pulled a pack of matches out of her shoe, lighting the cigarette and choking down the urge to cough. Amata followed suit, immediately paling another shade. Butch rolled his eyes and lit one, taking a deep drag and exhaling through his nostrils with a hiss.

"So where's the booze?" He demanded, smoke tendrils swirling around his head. Jessica puffed delicately, buying a moment to think. She didn't know where any alcohol was. That fib had been entirely Amata's doing, and she wasn't sure how they were going to get out of it gracefully.

"Not here, duh." Amata coughed once. "That way, if someone finds the cigarettes, they don't get both."

"That's dumb as hell." Butch flicked his ash onto the floor. "Why don't you just hide 'em better?"

"How bout you find and hide your own damn beer?" Jessica demanded. "You're lucky we let you come at all."

"Whatever. Go get it, then." The boy took another deep drag. "Unless you're a liar."

"That's what you said last time," Jessica snapped, "and now you owe us both three snack rations."

"I don't owe you a damn thing until I get a beer," he retorted. "That was the deal. Smokes and booze."

"Amata, you remember where we hid it," Jessica addressed her friend, meeting the girl's shocked gaze. "We'll wait here. So he can't bring his disgusting friends and take it all." Amata glared daggers at her, hands clenched at her sides.

"Oh, right, _I _remember where we hid it," she growled. "Fine, FINE. I-I'll be right back."

Sending Jessica one last scathing stare of betrayal, Amata pounded on the door control. Jessica shrugged, giving her a look that read, 'This was all YOUR idea.' When she had vanished into the dim hallway, Jessica and Butch stared at one another before breaking the gaze and concentrating on the floor. The minutes passed slowly; Jessica stared at her Pip-Boy, sighing in frustration when ten minutes had gone by.

"Where the hell is she?" The girl demanded, glancing up at the door. Butch snuffed out his cigarette, giving her a look that managed to be bored, condescending and haughty all at once.

"Better go find her. She musta got lost trying to find the beer that AIN'T THERE." The boy sneered. Jessica swallowed.

"Come on," she grumbled, hoisting herself off the floor. "I'm not going by myself."

Butch grinned.

"Baby scared of the dark?" He simpered, resuming chomping on his toothpick. Jessica glared at him.

"Just come ON," she snapped. "We should get back soon, anyway. My dad will look for me." She didn't give him time to think up a witty remark about her relationship with her father, making her way quickly out the door. She could hear Butch's displeased grumbling behind her, refusing to look at him.

There was something wrong with the corridors. She couldn't remember any of the intersections; it was like the Vault belly had shifted around. She swallowed, standing in a T junction.

"Where are we?" She asked, finally turning toward Butch. The boy was gone.

"Butch? That's not funny. I know you're there." Her words echoed eerily. "Come out, you're not going to scare me!"

The silence was deafening. It pressed on her ears with a physical weight, making her heart pound faster.

"Butch?" There was a tremor in her voice. "Amata?" She began to run, staring wildly around for her companions. The hall was stretching out in front of her, impossibly long and narrow. Her legs grew heavy, as though she were trudging through hip-deep water.

She turned to go back, and found herself face to face with a solid wall.

"AMATA!" Jessica screamed. There were no longer any doors along the corridor. She panted, struggling to press on as the unseen force held her back. "BUTCH!"

Something invisible grabbed her ankle, and she fell hard.

Jessica woke up on the ground, surrounded by blackness. Panic immediately overtook all her senses. She screamed, flailing on the cold metal floor. She had no idea where she was or how she'd gotten there- the last thing Jessica remembered was the little dorm room. Now she was in a long, dark hallway, barefoot and unarmed.

She curled up against the wall, knees clutched to her chest. She gasped for breath, fighting back hyperventilation. In nothing but the thin Vault suit, she was freezing.

"Sleepwalking," she gasped aloud. "Must have been sleepwalking. I'm ok-" She tried to reassure herself. The words echoed menacingly around her.

"Oh my god, where am I?" She choked down a sob, trying to get her bearings. The labyrinthine Vault corridors ran miles underground. If she got lost, alone in the unfamiliar maze, there was a chance she would never find her way back out.

Automatically, she checked her Pip-Boy. The little computer informed her that it was just past eleven at night. Jessica took a shuddering breath; she hefted herself to her feet, cold metal floor burning their bottoms. Her head swam, and she steadied herself against the wall. The strange taste was filling her head. She took several deep breaths, trying to decide which way to go. There was nothing to indicate what direction she'd come, no dust in which to leave footprints.

Jessica began walking, arms wrapped around herself. She was in the laboratories; broken equipment and computers littered most of the adjoining rooms. Her natural inclination to scour them for valuable items was squashed by nerves.

'Gotta head upstairs. Labs are always in the lower level. Get back to the dorms, get my shit and get out.' Jessica found it unusually difficult to form the thought. The instant she'd finished, a wave of panic swept over her body. Images of the Wasteland and its bloodthirsty residents washed over her in a mosaic of blood, bullets and teeth. She sank to the floor, head between her knees as she sobbed uncontrollably.

The panic attack lasted for several minutes. When Jessica finally got ahold of herself, eyes puffy and nose dripping, she remained on the floor. Head in her hands, the girl sat and trembled.

"What the fuck is going on?" she pleaded wretchedly. Her voice echoed down the hallway.

_You're safe now._

Jessica's head snapped up. Someone had whispered in her ear. She stared frantically around the dark, deserted corridor.

"Hello?" She demanded. "Is someone there?" She rose quickly to her feet, ignoring the rush of blood to her head. Jessica stumbled forward, heart pounding in her ears. She blinked, then rubbed her eyes; an indistinct shape moved in the darkness ahead.

"WHO THE FUCK IS THERE?" Jessica screamed. No longer mindful of the cold or her vulnerability, she staggered down the hall after the shape. It faded as she approached, ever just out of sight. Jessica was unaware of losing all other thoughts, but soon chased the phantom with single-minded determination. It lead her through the laboratories; she walked for more than an hour before it vanished.

Jessica stood dumbly, staring around at more unfamiliar corridors. She had no recollection of the trip. She remembered shouting; now she stood at another flight of stairs, leading deeper into the Vault's belly.

"Jesus fuck," she moaned, gripping her hair with both hands. She sank to her knees, then splayed back on the ground.

Downstairs. She wanted to go downstairs.

No, she didn't. Downstairs was the exact opposite of where she wanted to go.

Safe downstairs. Supplies downstairs. Storage-why hadn't she thought of it before?

Jessica clambered to her feet and stumbled down the stairs. It made perfect sense. Astounded by her own brilliance, she giggled manically.

"Dogmeat, I need you to find something for me," she slurred to the empty hall. "Find chems, boy! I need-I need Jet, I gotta-" She broke off, losing her train of thought. "I feel funny. Hey Dogmeat, does it taste kinda blue in here?"

Jessica reached the bottom of the stairwell, looking down another long hall. The lights shone bright and blue. The girl blinked several times, wondering when the generators had started working. She walked drunkenly down the corridor, catching herself on the walls when she stumbled. The rooms around her were clean and orderly, tables covered in humming equipment. Jessica swallowed hard. Something was very wrong, and her head refused to clear long enough to figure out what.

A figure stepped out of a doorway, face hidden in shadow. Salt-and-pepper hair was combed back neatly. His white lab coat glowed under the eerie blue light; a little yellow 101 peeped out from beneath the lapel. It took her brain several moments to recognize him. James turned without a word and began walking. Jessica cried out.

"Dad! DAD!" She screamed, lurching after him. James made no indication he'd heard, rounding a corner.

"Dad, it's me, Jessica," the girl sobbed. "Wait for me, Dad, PLEASE wait for me!" She came around the bend just in time to watch him step into an adjoining room. She staggered after him, gasping for breath between sobs. She caught herself in the doorframe with both arms; the room was empty. Several active computers sat humming on a table.

The room was plunged into darkness. Her Pip-Boy illuminated a small circle. The table lay on its side, two legs missing. The computers were on the floor, broken and derelict. A skeleton splayed across the ground.

Jessica was too shocked to scream. Her legs wobbled like jelly, and she fell to the floor. Little hiccupping sobs caught in her throat. She scuttled backwards into the hall; it was in equal ruin.

He was right there. She'd seen him, clear as day. The girl's eyes welled up, and she sobbed into her hands. She was cold, frightened, and fairly certain she was going insane. She sat and cried for several long minutes. Jessica had never felt so bitterly helpless and alone.

When she ran out of tears, the girl scrubbed her face miserably. Her head was a little clearer, allowing her to examine the situation. Something was wrong with her. She felt high. It was nothing like the euphoric, focused sensation brought on by Jet; her body was heavy, thoughts slow and disjointed.

"Dad's not here." She spoke aloud, forcing her thoughts to line up. "There's something wrong with this place and I need to get out of here."

The blind panic washed over her again. It was a little easier to control this time; Jessica pushed images of herself being tortured and eaten away, instead focusing on her breathing. She drew air in slowly and deliberately, letting it out with a soft huff. Cheek pressed against cold metal, she cried silently.

_You like it here._

Jessica sobbed aloud, pressing her hands over her ears. The voice sounded like someone was speaking right next to her. She let out a wail of fear and frustration.

"Who are you?" She shrieked, slamming her fist into the floor. The wave of pain cleared out some of the cobwebs in her mind.

_No one's here,_ she reminded herself forcibly. _This is in your head. I have to get out of here, I've gotta find the way out._

"_I'm-so sorry, baby."_

Dad.

His voice echoed around her. It was strained and sad, sounding as though he were in a great deal of pain. The lights flickered overhead. When they flashed blue, Jessica could see a trail of blood leading down the hall.

"_I didn't want-"_ A groan of agony ripped through Jessica's heart. _"Help me, please help me."_

"Just hold on, Daddy, please be ok," Jessica sobbed, scrambling to her feet. The lights were bright and steady again. She sprinted down the passage, falling several times without noticing. Her knees dripped blood down her legs, but she continued with single-minded determination. She knew he was down here. He was in trouble, and she had to help him.

"DADDY, WHERE ARE YOU?" She screamed in anguish, tears running freely down her cheeks. Someone moved in the distance. Half-blind, Jessica squinted to make them out; her mouth fell open in shock.

Butch Deloria sprinted toward her, fists raised and face twisted in a bestial snarl. Too stunned to move, she could only watch as he swung out, catching her square in the nose. A starburst of white-hot pain sent her reeling; she clutched her face, blood running freely through her fingers.

The light vanished. Butch was gone. A haggard, gaunt man swung erratically at her. He fell to his knees, clutching what remained of his hair and shrieking like an animal. Jessica managed to regain a portion of her wits, and took a few hesitant steps back. Gasping and grunting, the man rose to his feet; his face was a mess of half-healed cuts and bruises, one eye completely gone. He stared at her with a look of blind rage, gnashing his teeth furiously.

"Not the blue," he muttered, "oh god, not the blue-it's coming, it's coming for all of us! No one gets out of the blue!" With an inhuman shriek, he leapt for her. Jessica managed to side-step the attack, and the raving man splayed on the ground. He turned his head toward her, teeth bared and single eye rolling madly in its socket. Jessica backed into one of the rooms, looking around frantically for anything to use as a weapon.

The first object her fingers met was a fire extinguisher. Trembling, she pulled out the pin and aimed the hose in front of her. A second later, the man rounded the doorway. The girl let fire. He screamed again, stumbling backward and clawing at his face. Jessica's vision was red. She staggered after him, raising the canister and bringing the edge down on top of his skull. With a sickening crunch and spray of blood, he collapsed. Sobbing, Jessica slammed the fire extinguisher into his head again and again, finally sinking to the floor in a trembling heap.

A puddle of blood and gore spread across the ground. Jessica wretched, and puked violently. She pulled herself to her feet, adrenaline coursing through her body.

'_Weapon. Need a better weapon.'_

She searched the surrounding rooms, arming herself with a hammer she found in a toolbox. It wasn't much, but more reassuring than her bare fists.

She could barely think anymore. Sometimes, the Vault teemed with life. She passed by old friends, chatting amongst themselves as they went about their day to day. Other times, she was cold and alone, surrounded by darkness and decay. Each transition was more frightening than the last.

Finally, they stopped. Jessica blinked, staring down at her clean hands with trepidation. She was almost glowing beneath the iridescent lights. A trail of red disappeared around yet another corner. Jessica took a deep breath. She was almost overcome by a wash of relief.

_Breathe in the blue._

"I like it here," she heard herself mutter. Jessica continued doggedly after the blood trail. The Vault corridors shifted around her as she walked. Impossibly long hallways turned into solid wall; she thought briefly about finding her way back, but immediately dismissed the idea.

Butch was in her way again. That rat bastard. She bared her teeth and screeched. With an answering battle wail, he ran for her.

Butch had gotten rusty. She side-stepped his first attack easily, taking a quick note of the baseball bat in his hands. That would be a nice thing to have. Butch stumbled, trying to recover his balance. Jessica buried the hammer claw in his shoulder blade. Butch let out another caterwaul, grasping feebly for the tool and dropping the bat. Jessica snatched it up, drew back, and delivered a swift blow to the back of his head.

A spray of something warm hit her face. She tasted copper. Butch lay on the ground, hands up in defeat. She spit, and continued after the trail of blood. It was the only other color in the bright blue light.

An occasional giant baseball floated down the corridor. Jessica approached the first one cautiously. It spun around with a wail, fanged mouth dripping black liquid. She smashed it into the wall with her bat. The ball continued to shriek until she'd broken it open, guts and thread spilling across the floor.

Four giant baseballs later, Jessica stood panting at a dead end. The trail led through solid wall. She pounded on the metal until her knuckles bled, then began to kick it.

_Hello, honey._

Her head snapped up. James stood three feet from her. With a choking sob, she lunged for him. He vanished instantly. Jessica stared around wildly. James had reappeared in a classroom. She darted for the door, blocking it with her arms and legs. A quiet smile on his face, her father walked toward her, and disappeared again.

Jessica slammed her forehead into the doorframe, screaming in fury and anguish. A wave of dizziness threatened to knock her over. She stumbled back down the hallway, losing sight of the blood trail and her last shred of sanity. Demons rose from the shadows, grasping for her with razor sharp claws. She did her best to beat them back, but they were quick and strong. The shadow creatures ripped flesh from her body in long strips. Her blood pooled on the ground; sickening crunches and smacking filled her head as they devoured part of her arm. She screamed, swinging wildly as the thick smell of blood washed over her.

She caught one of the creatures in the chest. It shattered into thousands of pieces as the sound of breaking glass filled the air. The demons began to retreat toward the shadows, leaving her trembling and bleeding. A bright flash lit the darkness, briefly illuminating a mans' silhouette . White-hot pain stabbed through the girls' leg. She managed to stumble forward, swinging the bat furiously. A wolf creature appeared in front of her; another flash and deafening bang made her ears ring. The wolf leaped for her, fangs bared.

She'd lost the bat somehow. A ceaseless roar filled her head as she was knocked to the ground. The wolf had her pinned, jaws latched around her neck. Jessica's limbs flailed as she struggled to breathe. Her hand made contact with something long and heavy. Drawing back the wrench with the last of her strength, Jessica brought it down on the wolf's back. It yelped, releasing her throat and stumbling backward.

As blessed oxygen rushed into her lungs, some of the blackness faded. A man in a lab coat had almost reached the pistol he'd dropped. Jessica lunged for his knees, bringing the man to the ground. Grunting, he kicked her in the ribs as he flailed. She took a fistful of his hair, slamming his forehead into the floor. Momentarily stunned, he fell limp. She smashed him into the ground again and again, finally crawling away to dry heave in a corner. Every inch of her was shaking, body drained by pain and fear. She collapsed motionless. Blood pooled slowly on the ground beneath her.


End file.
